


Who You'll Hate and Love the Most

by EllieMarchetti



Series: Red Queen AUs [1]
Category: Red Queen Series - Victoria Aveyard
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2020-12-27 15:40:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21121181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllieMarchetti/pseuds/EllieMarchetti
Summary: Soulmate AU where everyone has the names of who they'll love and hate the most tattooed on their wrists





	1. First Friday

She hated the First Friday: the village became unbearably crowded and at that moment, in the heat of late summer, it was the last thing she could want. From the little place in the shadow where she was it wasn’t too bad, but the stench of sweat of the people would have clotted even the milk. And all for a stupid tattoo. Two, to be exact, but everyone was interested only in one, that of the soulmate. As if it were so fundamental: it was full of people who could get along well regardless of what a stupid writing on one wrist said and yet nobody seemed to understand it, blinded by the idea that _the right person_ was the only possible choice. Mare didn’t mind making a mistake, and besides, she certainly couldn’t afford to think of love, when at home she had several mouths to feed only with the little she could steal. Yet every now and then she thought about it. Who was this Maven? It was the name she had written on her left wrist, perfectly aligned with the king’s, which she had on her right. That the monarch who had made Norta what it was, or at least was allowing it to continue to be, was her worst enemy was not even to be doubted, so there remained only one option. Was he someone like her? He certainly didn’t come from Stilts, or she would have met him before; she hoped he lived at least in Norta and not in a kingdom with which they were at war. After all, she didn’t want to find herself killing him after they came to get to recruit her. Not that one could escape military service, if one wasn’t already someone’s apprentices. And she wasn’t, she never would’ve been: everyone in the Stilts knew she was a thief and no one decides to keep in their house someone who could take everything you have under your nose. The only other way to escape the call to arms was to marry your soulmate. Norta’s ruler took the matter way too seriously and they allowed to marry and have children only to those who were soulmates. And that’s why, although staying away from the stage and from the people, and with a disinterested expression painted on her face, Mare was there. None of her brothers had managed to marry before the call to arms, and Gisa, her only sister, younger than her, was an apprentice at a seamstress; she was the best, so she didn’t have to worry particularly. Mare was the only one who still had to hope. In addition, the government itself gave funds for a decent marriage, which the spouses could choose to spend as they wished. Mare knew perfectly well that many in the Stilts were desperately looking for their soulmates more for a marriage of convenience than for true love: in fact, nobody used all the money that was given to them for the festivities or what was actually needed to get married but they saved it for moments of real need. It was not unusual for the couple to buy second or third-hand clothes, and many young brides with the lean build of all the Stilts girls had worn the same dress. The guards and officers pretended not to notice, and those who could afford to make some changes did so in order to arouse less suspicion. Gisa had embroidered an untold number of clothes for free, but her favorite was the one Madge had used: it was practically new, belonged to her mother, who had kept it until then, and of a very shiny fabric, but not silk, which only the silvers could afford, which Gisa had said was good for the embroidery and the application of pearls that the girl had asked her. She was one of the few lucky ones who could afford to pay her with money, although it wasn’t completely legal, and the whole family had rejoiced as they had never done before when Mare had resold something she had stolen. No one was very proud of her occupation, including herself, and although they tried not to make it weight too much on her, she knew that her parents, and often Gisa too, thought she was the promoter of her misfortunes_. If only she had behaved well, if only she stuck to the law_, she had once heard her mother tell her father, when she thought that all her children, as she liked to call them, were asleep, _she shouldn’t go all those damned First Friday waiting to hear that damned name_. Mare didn’t regret anything and certainly didn’t regret helping and continuing to help her family in time of need.

Sometimes she thought of her brothers, how everything on both sides stopped for those announcements. She wondered if they had already brought the list of the Stilts’ names and one of them had smiled in hearing that of Gisa, Kilorn or hers, or if they had nudged one of their companions, saying proud that those were their loved ones. Perhaps they were worried that she hadn’t yet found her soulmates, that she had not yet escaped with certainty the enrollment. A little over a week and Kilorn would have become a professional fisherman and within a few years she was sure that Gisa would be called to Archeon to work for the royal family, seeing how good she was. If she had been lucky, she would not even have to see the return of one of her brothers and would have earned a few days’ leave to meet them or for their marriage. Furthermore, in Archeon the announcements did not take place only on the first Friday of the month but once a week, allowing all those who lived and worked there, or were only visiting, to listen to the names of many more people. Obviously the silvers also had their meeting points, where they could hear the names of their possible soulmates, but it was a practice that only merchants or minor nobles practiced, while for the most important families there were more contained methods, but no one has ever bothered to expose them. Not that it could have any relevance, for the reds, that could not marry the silvers for any reason. In fact it was known that if a red met a silver with the same name that was on their wrist there was only two options: it was the one who would have been their worst enemy or, in the vast majority of cases, a namesake. Although it was something many silvers didn’t manage with the same grace and detachment that they used to show to the world, it happened quite often. So every time she participated in the First Friday she prayed that they would announce the names of one of the fronts, that someone would come up on the stage, exposing their wrist and showing that she was really Bree, Tramy or Shade’s soulmate. Because anyone who was at the front and found a soulmate was called back. A temporary leave, of course, but that allowed the new families to settle down. It was painful, but it extended the life of those at war and improved the lives of those left behind. Not that the counting of the five years of obligatory military service also included the months spent at home: the marriage leave put everything on stand-by and on the way back people started counting again the days, hoping the countdown ended seeing the crowded truck on which the soldiers returned to their homes and not a coffin. Unfortunately, however, no Diana showed up in the Stilts and not even in the list of names read in Corvium, evidently, otherwise Shade would have returned, making her feel less alone and maybe even helping her in those months that separated her from her departure, training her to what she would face. She hated to get to things unprepared, but the school taught nothing about how to survive in the trenches and she would never, ever try to extrapolate something to her father, who seemed to suffer from the horrors he had seen more than anyone else she had ever met. So she waited, letting herself be carried away by the events as she was letting herself be carried away by the rush of people to whom she was extracting banknotes from the pockets and slipping bracelets from the wrists with his hands darting, fast and light, to the right and to the left. Down the street the crowd thickens and more and more people join the stream. A band of brats, all would-be thieves like she had once been, throws themself into the fray with hands that are sticky for the emotion and too greedy for not being noticed by the security agents, who are quick to intervene. Under normal conditions, the kids would all be put in logs or sent to prison, but the agents want to attend the First Friday part they prefer: the Feats. Because Norta was not based only on love dictated by soul mates but also on blood and the difference between reds and silvers, hence the Feats, the only form of entertainment for the reds after a grueling month of work and a cold and calculated plan to send the message that only the silvers fight because only a silvers can survive, even if it does not always happen, although this is another thing that silvers do not like very much to admit.

A slight pressure on her side made her turn around and grasp the hand of the poor fool who tried to steal something from her, so as not to let them escape. Instead of a skinny boy, however, she found herself facing a familiar face that smiled at her slyly.

“You get faster and faster,” Kilorn sneered, freeing himself from her grip without any effort, since he was a little over a foot and a half taller than her. And to think that as children they used to fight all the time.

“If anything you are slower.” she teased him, but it wasn’t entirely a lie. Since he started working as an apprentice, he no longer stole as he used to, partly for fear of risking his job, partly because he didn’t need it since Mare shared with him her leftover, whether it was food or earnings, which, although scarce, helped a lot.

“Should we wait for Gisa?” he asked, stealing her apple from her hand. Mare let him do it and watched him bite it voraciously, wondering for how long he hadn’t had a decent meal. Oh, if only Gisa had known! Obviously Mare would not have told her anything, avoiding feeding false hopes and dreams that would not have led anywhere. Kilorn was not the soulmate of either, unfortunately, but Gisa was the most displeased with it since she had a crush on him for at least a couple of years. She would have liked to see her sister and her only friend getting married, although maybe it would have been a little strange. Meaningless fantasies, since his soulmate was named Cameron.

“For today she is exonerated, she must work.”

“Then let’s hurry up, I don’t want to miss the show.”


	2. First Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Diana Farley and Shade Barrow meet for the first time

“There’s a storm coming,” said the Colonel to fill the silence. He had the good eye pressed on a crack in the compartment wall, fixed on the horizon. The other eye stares, though it can hardly see through a film of scarlet blood, but it was nothing new: his left eye has been like that for years. Diana followed his gaze, peering through slats in the rattling wood. Black clouds approached rapidly, barely hidden by the thickly covered hills and the lush vegetation. In the distance, thunder rolled, but it didn’t bother her, as long as the storm didn’t slowed the train down, forcing her to spend more time hidden here, beneath the cargo car’s false floor. She couldn’t really complain about the means of transport: on the trip to leave Solmary they had spent half the time on a barge shipping fruit with most of the cargo rotten that had forced her to spent the entire first week of operations trying to wash the stink away from her clothes, and she would never forget the disaster at Detraon; three days in a cattle car only to find the Lakelander capital utterly beyond reach, too close to the Choke and the warfront to have shoddy defenses. But she wasn’t officer back then, and it wasn’t her decision to try to infiltrate a Silver capital without adequate intelligence and support, but her father’s, who was only a captain with too much to prove and too much to fight for, and she little more than an oathed soldier with things to prove too. Bad blood or not, they had always been a good team and that’s why they kept getting sent out together. Detraon was their only misstep in an endless march for the cause, for which they put aside their differences each and every time.

“Any idea where we go next?” she asked, like the Colonel, unable to bear the heavy silence. After all, he was her father and they had once been very close. But he turned away from the wall, frowning, reminding her again that nothing was left of her parent and that only her superior was in front of her.

“You know that’s not how it works.”

She obviously knew, she had been an officer for two years and passed two others as an oathed soldier, not to mention that she had spent a lifetime in the shadow of the Guard: no one knows more than they must, no one is told anything beyond their operation, their squadron and their immediate superiors because information was the most dangerous of their weapons. They learned that after decades of failed uprising, all laid low by one captured Red in the hands of a Silver whisperer. Even the best trained soldier cannot resist an assault of the mind. Every once in a while she wondered what they would find in hers, though she really didn’t want to know. Surely her family, as it was before the flood, and then dates, names and operations, enough to cripple the last two years of work in the Lakelands but not enough to destroy it. They would also find King Orrec’s name, if only she hadn’t had it tattooed on her left wrist. The names of those who you will hate and love the most, another divine condemnation, although many within the Scarlet Guard suspect it was just another way to control the masses. Diana also thought so, but wasn’t convinced that it was completely Silvers’ work but more than they had benefited from something they couldn’t control, just as they did with their powers.

“Captain Farley.”

Diana turned. It had been years since he last called her with her real name but it was fine, for various reasons.

“Colonel” she replied, and he finally looked at her, his good eye still a familiar shade of blue, filled for a brief moment with regret. She wasn’t ready for another discussion, she didn’t have the strength to deal with it, therefore she kept still under his quiet, quick observation. Everything was a test with him, it had always been, although to a lesser extent. At first, when she was just a little girl, she liked the feeling and did everything to make him proud and happy, but now he was getting old and his demands were increasingly difficult to achieve.

“What do you know about Norta?”

She grinned harshly. So they’ve finally decided to expand out. It was now clear for some time that the Lakelands were not fertile ground for the kind of rebellion they wanted to lead: too many cultivated areas, too many uninhabited spaces, too many memories for many of them. Norta was a breath of fresh air, with its coasts and immense capital. Moreover, the alliance with Piedmont must have intrigued the Command: once they conquered two kingdoms like these, breaking down the Cygnet monarchy would have been much easier.

“Another monarchy where the Reds must work or conscript to perpetrate the war that has been going on with the Lakelands for almost a century. Their king is Tiberias Calore the Sixth, a burner, fitting opposite to the nymph kings of the Lakelands. They should be easier to infiltrate since it’s half the size of the Lakelands with comparable population but we will have to be careful: a more advanced basis of infrastructures also involves many more controls.”

Outside, the thunder rumbled again, closer than before. So they would go to Norta to do exactly what someone long before them had started in the Lakelands. Her body already buzzed with anticipation: she had been waiting for that occasion for a long time and she wouldn’t let it escape.

* * *

The Chokes had a smell, a set of ash, smoke and corpses that remained on the soldiers like a sticky lover, sometimes even when they came back home. The veterans used to say that it enters your nose, but Shade was more convinced that it penetrated your skin and went down to your bones, becoming an integral part of you: you could be convinced that you got rid of it, but that smell of burnt carrion always came back when you least expected it, it didn’t matter how often you washed yourself or how hard you rubbed, because it was something intangible, more a memory than something physical. Some went crazy because of this feeling, he had seen them. In the beginning they behave as if they were well, maybe a little down, but when you are at war you are never too happy and usually no one notices it until the irritability and the unprovoked anger came, which usually resulted in severe paranoia and hallucinations, and this was what happened to those who were lucky. Even Shade’s skin began to be sticky, but that could be sweat, soil or blood: sometimes at the front it was difficult to distinguish them, either on someone’s clothes or on the ground, or at least this was what he repeated himself until exhaustion. That’s why he had missed the monthly reading of the names, although he still hoped to meet his Diana, to live a normal and never completely satisfying, life, and why he was walking in the middle of the woods, risking death penalty, careful to put his feet right where three people before him put theirs, wearing his uniform turned upside down: to not go crazy, to have a chance to live a life worthy of being called such and above all to allow his family and all those who came after to do so. Wasn’t that a worthy reason to fight, compared to earning a few miles of land on which even the grass would never grow again, by how much it was soaked in blood and dust? He hoped so, or he would have ended up just like all those poor souls who had lost their reason in the trenches.

"Here they are,” Corporal Eastree hissed, snatching him from his dark thoughts. Shade leaned forward to study the three Lakelanders. The first to attract his attention was a girl nearly his age, tall and so pale she could be mistaken for a Silver, with thin straight blond hair and eyes colder than ice. She seemed annoyed, although Shade couldn’t understand from what, but he also saw that this was all a facade: certainly she was a tough woman, but she had to maintain that forced detachment and that tough expression to enforce her rank. Thus in the Scarlet Guard there was no place for humanity and the feelings it entailed. Next to her was a boy nearly the same age, tall and thin as well, partly hidden behind the large rifle he was aiming at them. He seemed tense, as if he were about to shoot, be he remained incredibly still, as if he were used to being ready to kill someone for hours. He had to be a sniper, just as Corporal Eastree had been before the Lakelanders captured her and cut off both her trigger finger. The other woman was older and it was evident that, unlike the two younger elements that formed the small group, she had served in the trenches. She had lost an ear to a frostbite but she doesn’t hid the deformity, her blond hair pulled back tightly. Corporal Eastree must have made her own assessments too, as she came out of the bush with her hands up, to show that they had no intention of harming them, imitated by her subordinates.

“We’re the ones.” she said, but the younger girl didn’t seem convinced and asked for further confirmation, with which she didn’t appear particularly satisfied, perhaps because of the blatant anger in Corporal Eastree speech, although the woman had every right to be angry, considering that the war had taken everything away from her. Moreover, everyone would have had the nerves on edge to have a sniper, used to shoot from far greater distances, with a precision weapon pointed at their head. As if she had read his mind, the girl nodded to her companion, who relaxed his finger on the trigger just a little, but not enough to prevent Shade from throwing himself into the conversation and answering the next question instead of his superior, earning a grin from the girl.

“We best make this quick,” Eastree interrupted them, aware that no one would have won an argument against him armed with sarcasm and a title borrowed by the military. “Your lot might protect your names, but we have no use for such things since they have our blood and our faces. This is private Florins.” she started, pointing to the girl behind her. For anyone who didn’t know, the two could have been mistaken for relatives, but Florins still had a family at home while Eastree had nothing but her subordinates, for whom she would have sacrificed anything.

“Private Reese” she continued, pointing to the next boy. They had been recruited together, he and Shade, but Reese had managed to convince the sorting officers that he would be more useful as supply soldier, so he was carried cases of ammunition and food all day instead of being in the open field.

“And…” she tried to end, but Shade interrupted her and closed the distance that separated him from those who would be his new allies and if all went the right way, maybe even a good escape from that hell.

“Barrow, Shade Barrow.”

Without seeming particularly impressed, their leader settled her right sleeve better and then went on to talk about what their tasks would be but their eyes no longer met, and Shade promised himself to find out what dark secrets that girl tried so hard to hide.


	3. To Lie and Keep Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An insight in Diana's mind after she discovered Shade's her soulmate

Trying to ignore the sticky sensation that came with the rising humidity, Diana piled her braid on top of her head, wrapping it like a crown; she wasn’t used to that kind of temperature, just like the other Lakelanders in her group, and if the weather continued like this she would’ve to cut them. Once or twice she had thought of doing it, shaving as many women in the army used to do, although it was mainly a way to avoid lice and unnecessary impediments, but every time she put herself in front of the mirror with the scissors in her hand she lacked the strength, remembering the moments when, when she was still a young girl, her mother and sister brushed her long blonde locks and braided them with skilled hands. At times like this, where a storm raged inside her, she felt the lack of those tender gestures but she wouldn’t have asked for help to one of her subordinates for a task that she could easily perform alone. Constantly putting a wall between herself and those who, if everything had gone for the best, would’ve been her companions for life was painful, especially when there was no one at the base ready to wait for her and welcome her with open arms on her return , but it was necessary if she didn’t want them to start to be insubordinate: just like her father before her, Diana would’ve trained the best elements of the Scarlet Guard and would’ve made them her faithful team, but to do so she had to stay above, cold and unreachable.

“He’s late.” Tristan said from his lookout at a glassless window, his eyes never still, always darting, searching. Diana’s heart leaped, though she tried to maintain a certain composure, like every time someone talked about Shade: none on her subordinates, not even Tristan, knew the name on her right wrist but Diana knew that at least Cara had begun to suspect something, though she kept her theories for herself. If it had started to be a weight too heavy to carry alone, Diana might’ve confided in her but for now she could still restrain herself, although every time she saw him return the relief in her eyes would’ve been obvious to anyone who had wanted to observe. If her father had been there he would have noticed immediately even if he hadn’t known the name tattooed on her right wrist, but his bloodshot eye wasn’t there to look at her like a crow and she still had some margin of time before the revelation became inevitable.

“I told him as such.” Rasha said from the opposite corner, snatching her from her thoughts. She was busying herself braiding her hair out of her dark face, taking care to divide the curling black locks into even pieces. Her own rifle, not as long as Tristan’s but just as well used, popped against the wall next to her. Diana knew the names on her wrists, Ptolemus on the left and Tristan on the right, and it would’ve been one of the rare cases in which two soulmates spontaneously meet if only Tristan hadn’t been given another name. This obviously hadn’t stopped them from loving each other, since, after all, they were already outlaws and for far more serious reasons.

“Scouts still out?” asked Diana, in hope that talking about work would appease her heartbeat, which echoed in her ears with the force of a thousand drums.

“Tarry and Shore are taking the ridge, they won’t be back until dusk, same as Big Coop and Marterson. Cristobel and Little Coop are about a mile out, in the trees, waiting on your Barrow boy and looking to wait awhile.” Tristan answered, and Diana tried to ignore the dart, although she felt the tip of her ears warm. Though Diana could understand why a paranoid like Tristan might not like Shade’s carelessness, Diana would’ve preferred if he had held his resentment for himself, at least until the mere mention of him had stopped making her blush like a little girl with a crush.

“Command happy so far?” her aide asked, luckily without turning around, or he would’ve seem the blush spread from Diana’s cheeks to her neck as she lied as smoothly as she can, earning a meaningful look from Cara.

“They looking to oath Eastree or Barrow?” he went on. That’s what he wanted to know from the start.

“What makes you say that?” she asked, in order to avoid a clear answer.

He shrugged. “Seems like a long time to put into a pair we don’t mean to recruit. Or are you suggesting them for Stage Two?”

“Still working that out.” she mumbled before going out for a tour around the property, trying to keep her steps even until she arrived into the green trees, away from Tristan’s hawk eyes.

_It’s for the best_, she said to herself, _lying to them and disobeying the orders, it’s all for the best. It’s not your fault the Colonel doesn’t understand. It’s not your fault, _she kept on repeating in her head until the old refrain leveled her out, as comforting as a stiff drink. All she had done and everything she would do in the future would be for the cause, no one could’ve said the opposite as no one could’ve doubted her loyalty once she would’ve served them Norta on a silver platter. And if in the meantime she had managed to find love, to meet someone who, regardless of the name written on her wrist, would’ve been able to make her feel less alone in the world, it would only have been better. A smile slowly replaced her usual scowl. Her team, not even Tristan, knew what was going to happen, what Command had in store for that kingdom in the next few weeks or what they had done to get things moving, what she had said in front of that camera, and it didn’t matter how much she didn’t like the woods there, so different from those she was used to in the Lakelands, where she had learned to hunt with her father and to recognize which plants were good to eat with her mother, or that the air always smelled of smoke and ash, Norta would’ve been her conquest, what would’ve made her a member of Command, the place that would’ve given a voice to those who weren’t heard.


	4. Your Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shade is forced to reveal his true nature to Farley to save her life but she'll also be forced to reveal a secret she had kept for a long time

It seemed that a hurricane was moving through the farmhouse: the weapons, the provisions, their gears, everything disappeared in a practiced heartbeat, shoved into bags and packs. Two of them were already gone, into the trees, probably to carry the message to the others in the woods, but there wasn’t time, the Silvers were coming, with their animos-controlled hounds, much faster than they could run.

“You have to go!” Shade hissed, taking Farley’s elbow with enough strength to get her attention. Two snaps of her fingers and the team dropped whatever wasn’t packed away, another one and they flew like bullets from a gun through the door and the collapsed wall. The woods swallowed them whole, leaving behind only Farley, her lieutenant and him.

“Farley” he hissed, dragging her with him into the tree line. The guy from Piedmont followed, keeping their pace through tangled roots and brush without showing any sign of breathlessness despite the rather heavy-looking backpack and the rifle. Shade’s heart, instead, pounded in his ears, beating a harried drum, but not as strong as the barking of dogs. They would’ve smelled them, followed them and the swifts would’ve ran them down. If they were lucky they would’ve thought they were deserters and would’ve killed them in the forest, but if they wanted to investigate further… there were horrors within the black city of Corvium that Shade didn’t want to know. Moreover Farley wasn’t the only one hiding secrets: there was Mare at home and she was a thief, something that they could kill her for, and even at the front other soldiers had taken the Scarlet Guard’s path and he knew names and faces, sometimes even where they came from and some pretty useful things about their families that any whisperer could’ve extrapolated from his mind without much effort. Of course, there was a way to keep all those secrets safe and save both Diana and her friend but he wasn’t sure he could do it since he never tried. What if he failed? They would’ve died, all of them. If only they could still run for half a mile they would reach the water and those infernal creatures would’ve lose the scent but it was obvious that Farley wouldn’t have endured much longer and they couldn’t rely on the possibility that they took time to search the farmhouse.

“There’s a creek” hissed Tristan, pointing south. “Shoots off the river, closer. You head for it.”

“What are you talking about?” asked her, but Shade understood. He would’ve stayed behind for her. He would’ve allowed them to escape and he would probably even have sacrificed his life just to know that she was safe. He wasn’t sure if this was just devotion to the cause, or to his superior, but Shade suddenly felt relieved: if he had remained behind he could’ve taken Farley to the creek without too much trouble. As soon as the guy’s figure disappeared over the trees, Shade forced her to look him in the eye.

“You have to promise not to scream.” he said, and despite her obvious confusion, he forced her to promise. When he saw the first dog he held her tight and the world squeezed, spinning and tipping forward through empty air. Everything mixed and contracted until they landed in a streambed, quiet trees around them. Diana, just like the first time, seemed to be sick, but better to see her cough and spit a mixture of water and bile than to witness her capture. He crouched over her, one hand raised.

“Don’t. Scream.”

The gurgling steam cleaned up what she couldn’t and the cold water snapped her to attention since she started looking around at the willows bowing over them.

“How?” she whispered, her voice ragged. He took a few steps back and sat on a stone above the steam, perching like a gargoyle. He had no real explanation and he felt bad at the idea of how she could react, but the only thing he could do now was to really show her what he was capable of in the hope that she wouldn’t scream or shoot him, even if he was sure enough he could dodge the bullet. And so he jumped on the opposite bank to then return again to the rock where he was less than a second before, where he forced a tentative smile, without any joy behind it, because he knew what Farley was thinking, he could read it in her eyes cold like ice: he was a Silver, a traitor, probably the reason why her team had to run away. It was what he had imagined his family would’ve thought of him if he had revealed it to them, although it wasn’t the only reason he hadn’t done so, first of all not being able to write such a thing in a letter.

“I might not be able to scream but I can shoot you.” she said, pointing the gun at his head, although she was still obviously ill. He knew it would end like this, but he also knew that the gun wouldn’t fire a shot with the barrel full of water so he told her before he jumped near her ear, clamping a hand over her mouth. He hauled her dazed body up, forcing her to stand. She tried to shove him off but it was evident that she didn’t have the strength.

“And three” he resumed “the dogs might not be able to smell us anymore but they can certainly hear a gunshot. So, are you going to rethink your little strategy, Captain?” he asked, and though he had used her official rank he continued to hold her by the shoulders, gripping each tightly.

“You’re Silver? All this time?” she breathed, turning in his grasp. Despite the completely wrong time, he couldn’t help thinking that she was beautiful and incredibly brave.

“No, I’m Red as that dawn thing you keep going on about and no one followed me, obviously no one can, so they must have discovered about you by themselves. Something about spies in Rocasta, didn’t quite catch it all.”

“So you’re still safe in Corvium, still working for them as one of them?”

His patience snapped like a twig. Convincing her would’ve been more difficult than expected. And yet she had seemed so brilliant… she really looked like Mare. So he shoved his arm out, drawing back the right sleeve with shaking fingers. He didn’t like the idea of being etched by a probably dirty knife that would surely have caused him at least a small infection, but apart from that, there was no other way to convince her. Her fingers shook as badly as his when she drew the knife from her boot, where she always hid it. When she pressed it on his skin the first thing he felt was cold, than a hitching pain that made him flinch but it doesn’t lasted long for Farley withdrew the blade, surprised, when a drop of red blood came out of the wound. He didn’t even know how it was possible so he didn’t have an explanation to give her about what those powers were and where they came from, the only thing he was sure of was he wasn’t a Silver and he made it clear again. She slowly closed her long fingers around his wrist, where he was still bleeding. She had cut him just below the name of his soulmate, as if to point it out with the scar it would surely have left.

“Will you oath yourself to the Scarlet Guard?” she asked, but Shade’s mind was somewhere else, his eyes fixed on the girl’s right wrist. The soggy sleeve was raised, showing his name written in that unmistakable character that everyone knew.

“On one condition” he replied. Her eyebrows raised so high they might’ve disappeared into her hairline: she didn’t have to be used to the fact that someone knew the name of her soulmate, or the person she would hate most in the world, as far as he could tell, and surely the fact that he was a homonym, or maybe even the one, didn’t help at all, but he quickly recomposed herself, returning to speak for the Guard.

“This isn’t a request to the Guard” he specified, making a slow step forward “but to you.”

“And that is?” she asked, but from the expression in her eyes it was evident that she could imagine it.

“What’s your name?”

Shade saw the struggle that the girl was fighting inside reflected on her face and put his hand on hers. She stood for a long time looking at the contrast between their skins, then looked up and with the hint of a smile said what Shade had long suspected.

“My name is Diana and I think we are soulmates.”


	5. The Night at the Inn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mare meets what she belives to be just a kind and odd stranger outside the inn, while Cal has a revelation about his soulmate

Kilorn would find her wherever she hid, so she kept running, as if she could escape from what she had done to Gisa. The plan was thought out well, certainly risky but doable, if only her sister had adhered to what she had told her. But was she wrong, if she wanted to help save their friend too? After all, Mare hadn’t thought of anything else since Kilorn woke her up in the middle of the night to tell her his employer died and that they would send him to the front in two weeks. And now, for that stupid idea of hers, it would’ve happened to Gisa too. Mare tried to get the thought out of her head, to tell herself that her sister still had time, that she would find her soulmate and that her hand would heal, but she couldn't convince herself, so she kept running, running away from the disappointment she had inflicted to her family, to the fact she has destroyed everything. Wasn't it always like this? Hadn’t she always destroyed everything she touched? Knowing it didn’t help to make her stop crying. When she finally slowed to catch her breath, she found herself a few miles from the village, on the infamous northern street. Behind the turn, among the trees, the lights of an inn seized with people could be glimpsed. There were many of them, scattered around the old streets, and in those area, during the summer, they were filled with domestic and seasonal workers at the royal family’s service, all people who didn’t live in the Stilts, who didn’t know her, easy prey to clean up. She did it every summer, usually with Kilorn, who smiled in front of his jug as he watched her at work. As a group of drunks came out, she told herself that she was doing it for that, to see his smile again, to make sure that everyone continued, even if tiredly, to smile. It didn't take long to fill her coat pockets. At short intervals, someone at least tipsy came out, she approached showing a big smile to divert their attention from her hands and then walked away, vanishing without anyone noticing, anyone caring, because nobody remembers the shadows and now she was just that and she continued to be until midnight, then until one a.m. When yet another customer came out of the inn, she didn't think about it too much: he kept his eyes focused on the firmament and she was sure he wouldn't notice her, so she reached out and hooked the ropes of the pouch with one finger, but indeed he noticed and grabbed her wrist firmly. Mare tried to resist, but his grip was too strong and his fiery eyes filled her with fear, the same she had felt that morning. Whatever punishment he intended to inflict on her, she would’ve deserved it all. Instead he merely noted that she was a thief and let her go, even throwing her a silver coin, a tetrarch, which was worth much more than any stolen change she had in her pockets.

"This should be enough for a long time." he commented, before she could say anything. In the light of the inn, his eyes sparkled with a golden red glow, a warm color. The years spent studying people didn’t betray her: his black hair was too shiny and his complexion too light for a servant but his body was that of a lumberjack, with broad shoulders and sturdy legs. He was quite young, not much older than her, but didn’t sport the typical confidence of guys in their twenties. However, it wasn’t important: whoever he was, she should’ve kissed his feet for giving her such a gift but curiosity, as always, prevailed, and she asked him, in a cold and hard voice, why he had done it.

"You need it more than me." he replied, and although there was no trace of pity in his tone, Mare wanted to throw the coin in his face and tell him that she knew how to take care of herself, that this wasn’t how the world worked, that kind strangers wanted something in return most of the time and those who were really good at heart, like Gisa and Kilorn, were crushed, but she said nothing and grudgingly thanked him, snatching him a laugh. He was the strangest person she had ever met, and for a moment she hoped his name was Maven, that after so much pain fate or whatever controlled their lives had a joy in store for her.

"You live in the village, right?" he asked, as if with her faded hair, her dirty clothes and her dejected expression wasn’t obvious. But probably the question was rhetorical, because even before she could answer he asked her if she liked living there, as if someone could really answer affirmatively.

"Do you go home?" he asked after a long pause, during which he had seemed somewhat worried, even though she was beginning to think she was imagining things and that this meeting was all a dream or a hallucination.

"Why, are you afraid of the dark?" she mumbled, crossing her arms over her chest. Maybe she shouldn't have hoped he was her soulmate, maybe she should’ve been afraid of him; after all, he seemed to be strong and fast while she was there all alone. When he smiled, however, she felt destabilized again by the feeling of relief he conveyed to her.

"I just want to make sure you keep your hands for yourself for the rest of the night. I certainly can't let you take your half of the inn’s earnings, don't you think? My name is Cal, anyway." he concluded, holding out his hand, and Mare felt a small twinge of disappointment. It was perhaps her only chance to meet strangers before her time to go to the front and seeing how the First Fridays were going, she doubted that she would meet her soulmate before being recruited. Mare didn’t shook it, remembering his skin’s extreme warmth, and rather took the way home, with rapid and silent thief steps.

"Mare Barrow" she introduced herself, looking over her shoulder. For a moment the boy seemed to stiffen, but it had to be another one of her impressions to which her tired mind gave too much importance because, with his long legs, he didn't take him long to reach her and mock her for her unfriendly attitude. The cold metal of the coin she held in her hand helped her stay focused, reminding her why she had gone so far from the village, what she was and that, if she studied a good plan, she could’ve access to what was in the boy’s pockets, more money for Farley.

"Your master must pay you quite a lot." she said, in hope to casually study the situation.

"I have a good job." he explained, without giving it too much importance nor wasting time in details. He didn't even realize how lucky he was and how many would kill just to be in his place. Of course, if she had killed him there, in the middle of nowhere, Kilorn could’ve taken his place. If only he had told her where he worked and for whom... But then, would she really be able to kill him? It wasn’t against the luckier Reds they had to act but against the Silvers, while among the poor it was necessary to help each other and it was exactly was Cal was doing, probably even while investigating her lack of employment and how long she had before the call to arms. 

"That's why you steal." he said, and Mare couldn't tell if his was a question or a statement. Certainly he wasn’t judging her, though she was sure he had never been in her place, but she still felt compelled to justify herself, perhaps to remind herself that she wasn’t only good at hurting others but every contemptible act she had done was for the sake of her family.

"Were you at Summerton today?" he asked, but he already seemed to know the answer. Had he seen them? Did he know what had happened to Gisa? Or had he recognized only her? However, it didn't matter, because it was like digging a hole in a dam and in a moment the words came out of her mouth like a river in flood; even if she wanted to, and she didn’t, she couldn’t hold back. She made no reference to Farley, the Scarlet Guard or even Kilorn, but she told how her sister had made her sneak into the Grand Garden and helped her steal the money they needed to survive but that she had been discovered and that was why her hand had been broken and what it meant to them. Suddenly she caught a silver glow from the corner of her eye: another coin, another pitiful gesture.

"I'm really sorry, Mare. Things shouldn't be like this."

She couldn’t even find the strength to look at him, completely emptied by that confession and by the gratitude she couldn’t express: "There are people who have it much worse, don't worry about me."

* * *

Arriving at the village gates, Cal greeted Mare and let her go on alone among the stilts. It had taken all his willpower to not give her everything he had in the bag but above all not to reveal to her what was on his right wrist. On the dimly lit street, he looked over and over at the black letters in sharp contrast to his fair skin. As much as he wanted to be able to change it, her name remained there, he could almost feel it physically burn, barely hidden by the bracelet that generated the spark that allowed him to use his skill. He should’ve burned that village, razed it to the ground and forgotten her, moved on and faced the Queenstrial with a clear mind. But how could he, how would he succeed, knowing that the proud spirit of his soulmate lay in the body of a Red? He had been told several times that when things like that happened, they were homonyms, that no Silver could have a Red soulmate, but now that he had seen her face, that he had seen her try to stubbornly save her family with the little she could do, he couldn’t believe it was true. The next day, he told himself, he would talk to his uncle. Julian Jacos was the only one able to give him the answers he needed.


	6. A Job

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mare is hired at the Hall of the Sun, while Cal has to deal with what it could mean to have a Red soulmate.

"You were called to serve as a maid." Walsh explained, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. An assignment. A job. Mare almost fainted for the overwhelming joy. It must’ve been Cal: he said he had a good job, so she must’ve oiled some wheels to get one for her too. Maybe they would even work together. Her heart leaped in her chest at the thought, though it shouldn’t have: they had no right to be in love if they weren’t soulmates and as long as he didn’t lie about his name, and Mare just couldn’t imagine why he should’ve done it, it couldn’t be him. But a lot of people were needed at the palace and maybe she would find her Maven there. She mimed the name with her lips, in hope that Walsh wouldn’t think she was crazy. She liked how it sounded. Moreover, she analyzed the reasons why she should hate the king so deeply: now things had changed, she worked in his house, so she could also have been his personal servant, once she had the necessary experience. For a moment she wondered if the queen wasn’t bothered by the fact that a woman could spend so much time with her husband and maybe even see him undressed, but then remembered that no Silver would ever be jealous of a Red, so she was sure that even women were part of the king’s maid entourage. Perhaps he would’ve mistreated her, or worse he would’ve fired her: they seemed the only possible reasons why she could’ve hated him so much. Or maybe... She refused to think about it: if Cal had found a job for her, he could have done it for Kilorn and Gisa and maybe even for Shade and Tramy. Yes, she would’ve looked for him during the little free time she imagined they would both have and she would’ve asked him to do the same for them, without forgetting to thank him for saving her life and meanwhile she would’ve behaved the best she ever had.

* * *

His father entered with a brisk step, a straight back and a high head. He was much fatter than the figure that appeared on the coins or in the transmissions but he was also taller. Many said that Cal resembled him, although he had inherited some traits from his mother, but every time he looked in the mirror, he could only catch differences. His wife was immediately behind him and greeted the crowd with a slight nod, as if someone here wasn’t standing just out of obligation; after all, she was the first to always stress how important etiquette and tradition were among the nobles, so she probably knew she wasn't loved, just feared, but she didn't care.

Somewhere, among the stages, rose a cry: "Death to the Scarlet Guard!"

Soon other voices joined the chorus, making him shiver: the memory of what happened the previous day, not far from there, was still fresh in his mind and the idea that that crowd before him could quickly transform stirred him, an emotion that he saw reflected in his father’s pallor. He wasn’t used to such outbursts and seemed to refrain from ranting against his people. Cal had suggested to postpone the Queenstrial, to take care of this matter first, but as always he hadn't listened, and now that everyone had gathered there they couldn't go back. Obviously, although the ceremony would take place, it was all a farce: it had been decided long ago who he should marry, perhaps the same day Evangeline Samos was born. The only problem was that he didn't love her, nor did she love him, or could ever do it, and if for other rulers, like his grandparents, it hadn’t been a problem, the more time passed, the more it was becoming a problem for Cal: they forced the people to marry according to the soulmates laws but they didn’t respect them, fearing the match wasn’t of some political utility. They were big hypocrites and Cal, despite his high ideals, was no better than them since he perpetrated those wrong traditions without opposing that much, for fear that his father could take away his rightful succession and put the crown on Maven's head, thus also removing any possibility he had of making Norta a better place. But he knew all these things, and although there were nights when he struggled to sleep and still strived with such thoughts, most of the time he had come to terms with it and was able to crush the shame he felt for being so shamelessly superior in a hidden corner of his mind, though, when it became overwhelming, he still alleviate the feeling sneaking in whatever places he shouldn’t be in to capture an excerpt of the lives of those, one day, would be his people. But after what had happened the previous night, he wasn't sure he would continue to do so. Deeply troubled by the fact that the girl he gave two tetrarchs to was called just like his soulmate, Cal had talked to his uncle, waking the poor man, who already seemed to sleep very little, in the middle of the night and together, when the sky was now clearing due to the imminent rising of the sun, they had come to the conclusion that despite the fact that nature had decided to put a clear division between Silvers and Reds, whatever commanded the soulmates was completely different, and certainly older than the aforementioned evolution, therefore it couldn’t be a simple homonym but the same person he was looking for. Obviously, the uncle had advised him not to say anything to anyone but to keep the girl as close as possible, by whatever means he had available, in case he hadn’t found any Mare in the archives he had still not been able to consult. They hadn’t talked about feelings, argument that all Silvers, but Julian in particular, didn’t like to deal with, and it had helped him partly quieting the whirlwind of thoughts that had messed up his head all the way back home. Yet, as he advanced, presented by his father, as if the whole court didn't already know him since he was born, greeting the crowd imitating Maven, who had come before him, the appetizer before the main course, as his father used to say, although neither of them liked the phrase, emotions took over for a moment and he scanned the room looking for her, cursing the uniforms that made maids all look the same. He didn't see her, but he wasn't even disappointed: he knew she was there, hidden somewhere, and maybe it was better that way.


	7. The Newblood Princess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mare discovers her powers while Evangeline ponders whether the newcomer could be a pawn in her scheme or her ruin

As she fell, she saw nothing but the shield of lightning that was coming towards her, sizzling, full of electricity that squeezed the air. She barely had time to realize that the purple screen would cook her alive and she would die in the Red uniform, the only concern of the Silvers having to commit someone to clean the mash that would remain of her, when she hit her head and began to see little stars. Not stars,_ sparks_. The screen was doing its duty, electrocuting her, the uniform catching fire, burning and beginning to smoke, and she would’ve expected the same to happen with her skin, but it didn’t; she felt nothing but the sparks’ heat that ran through her body and made her nerves burn, but not in a bad way, like she was feeling really alive for the first time, as if she had been blind all that time and now she finally opened her eyes and something moving inside her. The web of lightning was trying to kill her without success. It was all wrong but she was alive, so she wasn’t going to complain. The shield began to release black smoke, like an overloaded machine, and after a final, brighter and more aggressive shot, it weakened to the point of falling to pieces, causing her to fall again. As if by a miracle, she landed on a heap of dust free of protruding and sharp metal objects. She was decidedly battered, her muscles aching and her uniform reduced to a heap of scorched rags that were still miraculously together, but she managed to get up, albeit with difficulty. Above her a buzz of amazement and wonder arose: all eyes was on her, a charred red girl, a human lightning rod. Evangeline, the closest of them all, stared at her with wide eyes. She seemed angry, confused an frightened, and was probably not used to managing that kind of mixed feelings as she threw her a burst of sharp and deadly metal scraps, which slit the air and aimed straight to her heart. Without thinking, Mare raised her hands, as to protect herself. Instead of finding a dozen serrated blades stuck in her palms, she perceived something very different: as it happened a few moments earlier, she sensed her nerves awoke and ignite, fed by an inner fire she felt in her head and under her skin, until she realized that she was no longer the same Mare that had arrived there that morning for a ray of pure power and energy departed from her body, a lightning which came from her hands and made the metal fragments explode into a thousand tiny pieces and finally falling to the ground than then hit the farthest wall, leaving a smoking, three feet wide hole. Mare couldn’t imagine what would be left of Evangeline if it hit her, a thought she seemed to share as she was speechless, astonished, like the hundred Silvers who continued to observe them from above, including the king, who had leaned out of his platform, the silhouette of the flaming crown that stood out against the sky. The sentinels, stationed on each platform, wait for nothing more than his order, a command, but before he could say anything, Mare pushed Evangeline, still stunned, away and slipped into a kind of trap door embedded in the ground that had remained open.

“Catch her!” someone shouted behind her as she dived into the dim light of the environment below. For a moment, she thought she had imagined it, but as time went by, confirmation came that it was Cal and his selfish need to know if she was really his soulmate.

* * *

“The Queenstrial is always a joyful event, which concerns the future of our great kingdom and the ties that keep us united and strong in the face of our enemies,” began the king, speaking to the crowd. “But as you saw yourself, today it has given us far more than a future queen.”

“We all remember our beacon of hope in the darkness brought by the war, our captain and friend, General Ethan Titanos.” continued Elara, who had taken the king’s hand and acted like a feared queen, when everyone knew she was a perfidious harpy. Evangeline hated her, like everyone else, but in a certain aspect she respected her as she was a very powerful woman but also a clever strategist and one day she hoped to be able to reign just like her, manipulating her husband to be the one who he actually held the reins of the kingdom and living her private life, for it was no secret that the couple had been sleeping for a long time, perhaps since Maven’s birth, in separate rooms.

“Today we witnessed a miracle,” she went on, staring at the weird maid who had almost killed her, who now dressed in the Titanos family’s colors and advanced towards the queen among the forced applause of those present. She had a confident step and an inscrutable look that made her much more like a Silver than the creature she had seen this morning, but something continued to seem wrong, too far-fetched. When she sat down next to her, she threw her an incinerating gaze: she wouldn’t be able to get between her and the crown, and according to her father, who had conferred with the king immediately after the incident, it wouldn’t have happened because she would be betrothed to Maven. Maybe they could’ve been weird together. Evangeline wondered what names she had on her wrists: since they appeared at birth and couldn’t be changed, if she was who she said she was, surely she would’ve those of people she knew. She made a mental note to investigate, although she was sure it wouldn’t take her long to find out. She, for example, had two female names, which among the Silvers was ignored, like everything else concerning soulmates. Elane and Larentia. She had begun to understand early enough why her mother was the one she would’ve hated the most but it had taken her a while to come to terms with the fact that Elane Haven would’ve been the one, even though now it was undeniable. Of course Ptolemus helped, since he was the only one who knew from the start that supported and accepted her, but Elane, who had understood she was in love long before her, looking at her languidly from every corner and whenever she could has done her part and perhaps, but that was only a guess, a thought on which she liked to indulge, the last strike was her parents’ absolute prohibition to be something different than a weapon for the family, the future king’s bride. Obviously this would change once she was the queen. Cal already knew that she could never love him as a woman should love a man but they could’ve been allies if not friends, and he would’ve allowed her to be with Elane while he could take care of his own affairs, maybe even have a bastard she could’ve raised as her own, the next king and secretly a bastard. It was ironic and at the same time reassuring, or at least it would’ve been if only she hadn’t feared so deeply that something horrible could happen, that Cal could choose the new girl in a strange turn of events. She, generated to reign, cast aside by someone just because her name was similar to the one Cal’s soulmate should’ve had. She cast another look at that girl who could be her salvation or her ruin, unable to decide if it was better to pretend to be her friend or kill her.


End file.
